


I am Stretched on Your Grave

by missblatherskite



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Isabelle Lightwood, F/F, Lesbian Clary Fray
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 12:45:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14749115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missblatherskite/pseuds/missblatherskite
Summary: Death floated in front of her eyes.





	I am Stretched on Your Grave

“You have to eat, Clary.” Alec said as he placed a tray of food down at her bedside table.

 

She turned away from him, the smell of food making her feel sick. She heard him sigh before she heard his footsteps move towards the door and close it quietly.

 

Who’d have thought he’d be so together while she was not? Surely he had more right to be in her state, more right to mourn as she did.

 

She didn’t cry, her eyes were dry of tears, worn out from days and days.

 

 

Their first kiss was something magical, something so right like she’d never felt. They were disgusting, covered with blood and dirt and sweat. Their breath wasn’t the freshest, and her lips were chapped.

 

But it was perfect, like something out of a fairy tale. She was the prince, finally kissing her princess. Afterwards they pressed their foreheads together and just breathed, not wanting the spell to be broken. She wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that—it wasn’t until Alec came upon them that they parted, but only to face him, hands linked. She thinks she almost saw a smile on his face.

 

 

She was stretched on an infirmary bed, the sheets soaked red. The black she wore was even darker, clinging to her skin, wet all the way through.

 

It took a moment for it to sink in but when it did a strangled cry crawled its way up her chest and out of her mouth. There was no way someone could lose that much blood. There was no way someone could hold their breath that long, chest steady, unmoving.

 

Her knees failed her and the horrible noise kept coming out of her throat. Gone, gone, gone. The word death floating in front of her eyes, as she took in the blood again and again, disbelieving. So vibrant and full of life, now so still, so pale.

 

 

They were nearly inseparable, and it didn’t take long for them to move into the same room. It had been building between them so long, nothing seemed like a rush—it almost seemed as though they were moving slow.

 

There was mild surprise from the others, there were some cautionary words. Alec was the only one that remained silent. He understood. She never thought he would be such an ally.

 

 

She ignored the blood. Who cared if it got all over her? It was already all over Izzy. Why shouldn’t her blood be on her too?

 

She laid beside her, arm across her middle, head pressed to hers. She felt the lack of rise in her chest, the lack of breath from her lips. She breathed quicker, as if she could transfer some to her.

 

She stayed as long as she could, as long as they would let her. They had to pry her away in the end. “To prepare the body” they said. She wanted to stay. They didn’t let her.

 

 

It was her that asked, that took her hand and went down on one knee, pulled a ring out and asked her to marry her. Clary had thought…had wanted…but didn’t quite have the courage. Izzy had, and Clary was ecstatic.

 

She said yes and they spent the night in bed, fingers laced, her new ring warming between them.

 

Shadowhunters didn’t live long, so no one questioned the engagement. They would take all the time they had together, and live it fully.

 

 

In the end, she took a lock of hair. There would be no hole in the ground for her, no ashes for her to carry around. So she took her hair, encased it in a necklace. But she didn’t wear it. Instead, locking it in a chest where no one else could see, could have it. It was her piece of her, her piece that couldn’t be taken away.

 

 

 

They never got to get married. She wasn’t sure if they lived their time to the fullest or not.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism is always welcome. 
> 
> Comments warm my little goblin heart.
> 
> Title from "I Am Stretched on You Grave" by Johnny Hollow


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